lked towards the
Strand, his eyes bent on the ground as if he strove to find in those hard
pavements some solution of all these difficulties. And suddenly he lifted
his head and muttered a few emphatic words half aloud, regardless of
whoever might overhear them.

"I wish to Heaven I'd a right good, hard-headed Yorkshireman to talk
to!" he said. "A chap with some gumption about him! These Cockneys and
Americans are all very well in their way, but--"

Then he pulled himself up sharply. An idea, a name, had flashed into his
mental field of vision as if sent in answer to his prayer. And still
regardless of bystanders he slapped his thigh delightedly.

"Ambler Appleyard!" he exclaimed. "The very man! Here, you!"

The last two words were addressed to a taxi-cab driver whose car stood at
the head of the line by the Gaiety Theatre. Allerdyke crossed from the
pavement and jumped in.

"Run down to this end of Gresham Street," he said. "Go quick as you can."

He wondered as he sped along the crowded London streets why he had not
thought of Ambler Appleyard before. Ambler Appleyard was the manager of
his own London warehouse, a smart, clever, pushing young Bradford man
who had been in charge of the London business of Allerdyke and
Partners, Limited, for the last three years. He had come to London with
his brains already sharpened--three years of business life in the
Metropolis had made them all the sharper. Allerdyke rubbed his hands
with satisfaction. Exchange of confidence with a fellow-Yorkshireman
was the very thing he wanted.

He got out of his cab at the Aldersgate end of Gresham Street, and walked
quickly along until he came to a highly polished brass plate on which his
own name was deeply engraven. Running up a few steps into a warehouse
stored with neat packages of dress goods, he encountered a couple of
warehousemen engaged in sorting and classifying a consignment of fabrics
just arrived from Bradford. Allerdyke, whose visits to his London
warehouse were fairly frequent, and usually without notice, nodded
affably to both and walked across the floor to an inner office. He opened
the door without ceremony, closed it carefully behind him, and stepping
forward to the occupant of the room, who sat busily writing at a desk,
with his back to the entrant, and continued to write without moving or
looking round, gave him a resounding smack on the shoulder.

"The very man I want, Ambler, my lad!" he said. "Sit up!"

Ambler